


where do we go from here (working title)

by seasonallyappropriategoth



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Established Friendship, Gerry actually likes the interview with a vampire books, Hurt/Comfort, I dont know how to tag, M/M, Mary Keay's A+ Parenting, Sickfic, Stargazing, This Might Get Dark, i am ignoring the timeline to make them happy, mostly fluff actually, or how christmas works but i wrote that in too, there is the occasional rant about how much i love poison rings, this is probably more qpp than coupley, were letting them be soft, you can tell i wrote the first few chapters after my heating went out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-27 03:49:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30116730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seasonallyappropriategoth/pseuds/seasonallyappropriategoth
Summary: Suddenly free of Mary, Gerard Keay figures out his new normal. Most of that includes falling asleep together on the couch after movie nights with Michael.“So, rough night?” Gerry asks again, sliding down next to Michael and lighting his own cigarette.They sit there shoulder to shoulder for a few minutes before Michael leans in and rests his head on Gerry’s shoulder and sighs. Gerard takes the opportunity to fix Michael’s hair. “Wanna talk about it?” He smooths down his wild hair and tucks some behind his ear so it'll stop falling into his eyes and covering up his face.Michael takes another drag, “I don’t know. What are you doing here anyway? I mean- n-not that I don’t want you here, it’s just that it’s kinda freezing out here and all.”“It’s okay,” Gerry reaches back into his coat, “I was going to burn this.”Michael grins and raises an eyebrow, “Burning books Gerard? You do know I’m basically a librarian.”
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley
Comments: 17
Kudos: 19





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> content warnings in this chapter for a minor burn, referenced past abuse (mildly, mainly the affects), smoking, not quite a panic attack but definite angst

“Go, burn your book,” Gerard knows when he’s being dismissed, “don’t let me keep you.” He grabs his coat from the chair he’d thrown it over and moves to leave the office. Gertrude isn’t mean, she just doesn’t like to waste time, well her own time, that is, he’s followed quite a few dead ends for her. He doesn’t hold it to her. You don’t survive as long as she has without getting at least a little cold.

Wandering through the archive hallways Gerard shrugs his coat on. If anyone could appreciate committing to an aesthetic it would be the goth in yesterday’s makeup (and if he’s being honest, clothes as well), but the institute really went all in on the acidemia thing and Gerry can’t help being cold, no matter how much the darkened hallway adds to the spooky archive thing. Before he even makes it to the late November night outside he’s already pulling a worn pair of gloves out of one of his pockets. 

With one glove on, he waves goodbye to Rosie, still at the front desk, before pulling open the door and braving the cold outside in search of somewhere to burn the Leitner. Off of institute property this time. Gertrude had not been happy that time and he was anything but anxious for a repeat of that.

By the time he spots the gas station where he burned his last Leitner, his breath is visible in the air and he’s holding his coat tightly to himself. He usually wouldn’t want to do it exposed in the open like this, but he wants to risk having to clean up Pinhole Books after something inevitably goes wrong even less. It’s safe to say Gerry just wants to get this book destroyed and go find someplace to hide from the cold. Then he spots a familiar head of blond curls.

His favorite of Gertrude’s assistants is sitting by the door trying to light a cigarette that Gerry knows he’s too young for, and wouldn’t even look old enough for if it weren’t for how tired he always seemed, with violently shaking hands. “Rough night?” Gerry asks. Michael flinches hard enough that it’s probably a good thing he wasn’t going to get more than a spark out of that lighter. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” and he means it, Michael is probably the closest friend Gerard has, “Need a hand with that?” Gerry looks down at the lighter in Michael’s sill shaking hand.

“Yeah, I guess I wasn’t gonna get it,” Michael says as Gerry pulls out a pack of his own and starts digging around his pockets for a lighter.

“So, rough night?” Gerry asks again, sliding down next to Michael and lighting his own cigarette.

“You could say that,” Michael leans in for a light and when Gerard sees his face in the flickering light he’s got eyebags that suggest more than a night of missed sleep and his hair’s all messed up like he's been running his hands though it. Gerry wants to reach out and fix it. He wants to run his fingers through his hair until Micheal stops looking so exhausted.

They sit there shoulder to shoulder for a few minutes before Michael leans in and rests his head on Gerry’s shoulder and sighs. Gerard takes the opportunity to fix Michael’s hair. “Wanna talk about it?” He smooths down his wild hair and tucks some behind his ear so it'll stop falling into his eyes and covering up his face.

Michael takes another drag, “I don’t know. What are you doing here anyway? I mean- n-not that I don’t want you here, it’s just that it’s kinda freezing out here and all.”

“It’s okay,” Gerry reaches back into his coat, “I was going to burn this.”

Michael grins and raises an eyebrow, “Burning books Gerard? You do know I’m basically a librarian.”

“I have my reasons”

“There’s our Gerard, always clear with his answers. What, don’t like the author?”

“You could say that,” Gerry flicks his lighter and holds it to the pages until they catch. He sets it down open, spine on the ground with the pages fanning out a few feet in front of them. “Noble professional objections aside, it is warm and it’s freezing out here, you said it yourself,” he holds his palms towards it as if to prove his point. “See? Nothing like a nice roaring fire on a cold night.”

“For you maybe, with that nice warm trench coat. I’m just sitting here in my sweater from today,” Michael says huddling closer. Gerry put an arm around him and wrapped his coat around both of them. Michael shivers into him until he’s resting on Gerry more than sitting up at this point but Gerard isn’t complaining.

Gerry tosses his cigarette butt into the burning book and puts another between his lips. “You want one?” Michael nods against his chest so he lights his and hands it to Michael and pulls out another for himself.

“This is probably a fire hazard.”

“Probably,” Gerry lights his, “Do you mind?”

“No.”

Sitting together watching the Leitner burn is actually almost nice, picturesque even, in a sitting at a gas station burning a cursed book kind of way. It’s not Gerry’s fault he has an eye for aesthetics, or maybe he just likes the fact that he’s practically holding Michael at this point, tucked under his coat and leaning into his chest. He reaches out with his free hand and takes the opportunity to finish smoothing out Michael’s hair. He freezes when Michael tenses up, but after a second he relaxes with a sigh and lets Gerard run his fingers through those familiar blond curls.

They sit there until the Leitner is nothing but ashes, just Gerry combing his hands through Michael’s hair and Micheal closing his eyes from time to time as Gerry works out the rest of the knots. Biting cold aside, he could probably fall asleep right here. It might be the exhaustion talking but he knows he’s safe in Gerry’s arms.

Gerard gently shakes Michael awake. He feels a little bad about it, Micheal just looks so peaceful, All soft sweater, messy hair, and hands that have stopped shaking and instead found their way under Gerry’s outer layer to hide from the chill. He didn’t fix any actual problems for him, or really his hair, carding through it for that long had separated most of the curls, but at least he looks a little better. “Come on, let's get you home,” Gerry shakes off the part of his brain that’s telling him how pretty Michael looks right now and starts to pull him to his feet when Michael mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like, ‘no, don’t go.’

“It's too cold to stay out here.” Gerard was right, He was watching Michaels breath in the night air. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

“Too cold,” Michael mumbles, nuzzling back into Gerry’s coat so that they’re almost hugging, face to face. Or they would be if Michael wasn’t currently hiding his cold nose in Gerry’s collar.

“Okay,” Gerry thinks about what he’s about to do for a second, as a general rule he doesn't take anyone back to Pinhole Books but this is Michael,“I actually don’t live too far from here. You could stay the night.” He hopes Micheal doesn’t take that the wrong way. Or maybe that he does. Okay maybe Gerry’s tired too, or at least that’s what he decides for himself. 

“Y-yeah, if you don’t m-mind. I don’t want to b-be a bother.” Gerard isn’t sure if that’s just Michael’s usual stutter or if the fact that he’s shivering is adding to it. Either way it’s probably best he gets him inside and the both of them something warm to drink. 

So he says that. “Not at all, let’s get you inside before you freeze, I think I still have tea left.” Probably. 

They make their way back to Gerry’s, hug compromised so they could walk, Michael holding onto his arm and the coat functioning as more of a blanket at this point, wrapped around both of their shoulders as they huddle together. It’s only a few blocks but they’re both relieved when Gerry stops them in front of an old door with chipping paint. “Home sweet home,” he says like he’s trying to keep the bitter edge out of his voice and pulls out his keys.

“Pinhole Books?” Michael asks, reading off the plaque.

“The one and only. My mother’s pride and joy.” He’s taking longer than he should need on the locks on account of his frozen hands, even under his gloves, no wonder Michael is so cuddly, and that the right one is starting to shake but the lock clicks open and he opens the door for Michael and locks it behind them.

Michael is well awake by now but Gerard still rushes him through the bookshop and up the stairs nonetheless, wait, was that blood in the carpet? Michael looks like he’s about to say something but the look on Gerry’s face must have stopped him because he just lets him walk him up the rest of the stairs, down the hall, and into the kitchen.

Michael feels Gerry’s iron grip on him relax. He doesn’t look like he’s clenching his jaw anymore but this vacant look creeping in at the corners might be worse. “Gerry?” Michael asks and reaches out to put a hand on his arm. The flinch at being touched might be even more worrying but it seems to do the trick.

“What? Oh. Sorry,” Gerry shakes his head, “um the kettle’s on the stove. Would you mind boiling some water while I move the space heater to the living room?”

“Y-yeah sure. Are you- are you okay Gerry?”

“I’ll be back in a second to find the tea,” Gerard ducks out of the kitchen and makes his way down the hall to his bedroom. His mother had never been bothered by the cold, being dead will do that to you, and hadn’t seen fit to do anything about it so the only heating came from a creaky area heater he’d bought a few years ago. Gerry could probably do something about that if he wanted but it still feels like the house belongs to his mother, like she’s going to appear again. His right hand starts shaking again and he shakes his head to clear it. He doesn’t have time for this spiral. That doesn’t stop the left one from starting as well.

He hurries to grab the heater and plug it in in the living room. It’s been a while since that room was used for anything. Again, there’s no reason why he shouldn’t use it, it just feels too exposed. He forcibly stops that train of thought and goes back and strips some blankets off his bed for good measure. His bed. In that room he hid out in after all those bad days. That room that- more dangerous thoughts he can’t let himself get wrapped up in. He goes back to Michael in the kitchen.

Michael’s got the kettle boiling just in time even if he looks a bit awkward, after all Gerry did just kind of strand him in his kitchen. “I’ve got the living room heating up,” Gerry says, pulling down a box of earl grey and opening a drawer for mugs. If Michael notices anything off about him he keeps it to himself. “Milk and sugar?” he asks and waits for a response. Not one for patience, he looks up for Michael’s answer and sees him smiling. “What’s got you so happy?”

“You.” Micheal goes wide eyed for a second before elaborating, “Y-you know, you act all vague and intimidating- which y-yeah you kinda are but here you are making me tea because it was cold out.”

Gerry has to smile at that. If he’s got Michael rambling again he can’t be doing too badly. He raises an eyebrow, “‘Vague and intimidating’?” he inquires.

“Need I remind you how we met tonight? You came in all big coat and hair dye and combat boots to burn some book,” Michael says, a smile on his face.

“Aw and here Iwas, thinking you liked the look,” Gerry says in mock hurt and pulls himself up onto the counter.

“I do,” Gerry can actually see Michael blush this time but he goes on when Gerry grins, “just kinda proves my point,” he lets out a soft laugh and lets himself lean against the wall and they smile at each other for a minute or two before Michael announces that the tea looks like it’s done steeping.

Gerard grabs milk from the fridge which he surprisingly remembered to get yesterday and his bag of sugar which unsurprisingly is mostly empty and sets them down on the counter. He offers Micheal the first choice and raises an eyebrow when he pours what is definitely an excessive amount of milk into his tea. “What?” Michael asks, “You gonna tell me you only take your tea ‘black like your soul’ or something?” he continues, air quotes and all before reaching for the sugar and dumping an ungodly amount in.

Gerry takes the milk from where Micheal set it. “I have a reputation to maintain, y’know. You’re lucky I like you.” He looks down when he smiles a little too fondly, but not before Michael catches it. 

“Mmhmm very threatening.”

They both take a sip and Gerry burns his mouth and almost manages to hold back a string of curses while Michael laughs with his glasses fogged up. “Serves you right for not putting enough milk in,” Michael teases, giggling more at the look on Gerry’s face.

“Hey-” but Gerry can’t even be upset because Micheal just looks so bright and happy in his dull old kitchen. He’s probably the one bright happy thing in this place and Gerry can’t help grinning back. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t flip him off before wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him into the living room.

They sit on the small couch no one used before Gertrude got rid of his mother. The room is already warm and they can finally take off their outer layers and sit together, one at each end of the couch, legs together in the middle, so they can face each other nursing mugs of tea. While Gerry waits for his to cool down he gets Michael talking about work. Rosie got a new kitten and had been showing everyone pictures all day. This isn’t even curiosity into Gertrude, who he still wants to know more about, he just likes to see Michael’s face light up when he gets going on something. He starts talking with his hands and it’s wild enough that Gerry knows to give a bit of space because he’ll probably get hit in the face if he leans in too close, but it’s so endearing.

As Micheal gets deeper into talking about the statement he’s following upon, something about someone who’s sounding more and more like Mike Crew, Gerry notices that they’re both holding empty mugs, Gerry because he didn’t want to stop watching Micheal with that quiet smile that was for Micheal and Micheal only, and Michael probably didn’t want to be a bother. Gerry offers to start another round and Michael happily gets up and follows him into the kitchen, still going on about the mischief Possible Mike was apparently getting up to.

As Gerry puts on the kettle on with those soft eyes that make Micheal wonder if he’s the only one to get to see him that fond, which he thinks would be a shame because having Gerry look at him is the best thing Michael could think of right now and because he’d never seen him look that warm with anyone else and has just a little hope that it might be special, even though he thinks Gerry deserves to have more people than just him to be soft with. Michael starts talking about Robert Smirke’s architecture, which Gerry just so happens to be equally informed on. He pulls the box of tea back down and goes back to focusing his full attention on Michael.

“And did you know that his buildings have higher rates of hauntings, or at least reported hauntings, than any other London buildings?” Gerry raises an eyebrow so Michael continues, “well sue me for wanting to believe it. I think it would be cool for ghosts to be real.”

“Hauntings are not fun, believe me.” It’s Michael’s turn to look at Gerry quizzically so Gerard tries to bring the conversation back to comfortable territory, “Maybe the hauntings were part of why, even as a notable architect, Smirke was never taken up on his offers to design churches.”

It works. Michael's eyes light up. “The ones after his official retirement?”

“The very ones. Tea the same way?”

“Yeah,” Michael says, opening the fridge to find the milk, “He actually comes up a lot in statements.”

“Oh?” Gerry starts scooping sugar into Michael’s mug.

“Yeah, but statements about supernatural encounters tend to be hard to consistently verify. Do you have ice?”

“You can say that again. I should have some, why?”

“To put in your tea so you don’t burn yourself again.”

“Thanks,” Gerry moves to the freezer and Michael presses into the counter to let him by. “Any recurring themes for the statements he’s involved with?” Gerry makes his way back with ice and they’re once again face to face, pressed to either side of his cramped kitchen.

He can almost feel it when Michael says, “Actually no. Things like this do tend to follow a theme when you think about it but Smirke pops up all over.” The ice starts to burn in Gerry’s hand so he quickly moves past Michael and drops it in his tea. Michael pours milk for both of them and puts it back in the fridge while Gerry can’t help smiling about how nice it all is, spending time together and Michael getting comfortable in his kitchen. It almost makes this house seem a little warmer.

When he looks back up, Michael’s looking at him expectantly. “What?” Gerry asks.

“Nothing,” Michael starts but seems to think better of it, “Just when when you smile down at your hands like that it’s usually because you thought of something really sweet but you think it’s too soft so you aren’t going to say it which kinda sucks ‘cause as vague as you try to be, you come up with some really nice stuff and I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”

“Happens to the best of us,” Michael raises an eyebrow, “Okay, some more than others.”

“But what I’m trying to say, well maybe I’m not trying to say anything, we’ve established that I’m rambling here, but you’re used to it,” he pauses to catch his train of thought and probably his breath too, from how fast he’s talking, “Well I just like to hear what you have to say, e-even the sweet stuff, actually scratch that, especially the sweet stuff.”

“Wow. uh. Thanks Michael. Yeah thanks, um, I don’t know,” Michael waits for him to stop stumbling over his words. It's a nice change of pace, catching Gerry off guard for once. “It was cool of you to think of the ice thing, and it’s really nice to have someone look out for me even if it’s m-making sure I don’t burn myself on my tea.” 

Michael smiling at him makes trying to get that out worth it. “With a smile that bright I’m gonna have to invest in a pair of sunglasses.” he grins back, lighthearted and with his usual confidence.

“Now you’re just teasing me,” Michael accuses him and turns away to bring his tea back to the couch, but not before Gerry could see him blush.

They set up in the same spots, legs together under the pile of blankets and the heater rattling in the background. Michael’s back to talking about his statements while Gerry wraps whis hands around his mug. He might have to admit he’s watching Michael talk as much as he’s listening. It’s not that he doesn’t care about Amy from artifact storage, it’s more that Michael is just so bright. But he is paying attention. 

“Wait, rings with compartments? Like actual poison rings?”

“Well yeah,” Michael continues, “I mean from how it looks like they were used ‘locket rings’ would be closer.”

“Oh? Renaissance or middle ages?”

“From the contents, and the fact that they ended up in the Magnus Institute, I’d say the middle ages,” Michael grimaces a bit, “teeth.”

“Squeamish? What’re a few saints’ teeth gonna do to ya?” Micheal grimaces again and Gerry laughs.

“So, poison rings?” Michael prompts.

“I mean they appeal to my inner dramatic. The gothic imagery is all you could want.”

“My very own vampire. Do we need to get you a cape?”

“Not a vampire, they are no fun.”

Michael gives him a look. “Just an inner dramatic, you say?”

“Shut up, you love it.”

Michael raises his hands in mock surrender and Gerry takes a sip and grins at him.  
“So do you have a thing for eyes then?” Michael asks, changing the subject when his eyes catch a picture hanging across the room.

Gerry looks confused for a second before following Michaels gaze. “Oh, it was a gift.”

“Someone see your tattoos and decide you didn’t have enough eyes in your life?”

“It was to my mother.” Michael looks at him expectantly, like he doesn’t want to pry but he’s curious. “I made it a while ago when she was still around.” This conversation is getting dangerously close to spilling your guts territory. Gerard doesn't look up, he can’t meet Michael's gaze as he finishes, “It was probably the last thing I did that made her happy.” Without giving Micheal time to think too hard about that he gets up. “I’m gonna make another round. Do you wanna pick something to watch?”

“Y-yeah, sure,” Micheal gets out while Gerard takes his mug.

“Great, DVDs are in the cupboard under there,” Gerry points and heads into the kitchen.

As soon as he gets the kettle started he braces his hands on the counter and takes a jagged breath. "She isn’t here. Gertrude got rid of her. She can’t get to you. She’s gone. She can’t hurt you anymore." He just keeps repeating it in his head. If he says it enough, maybe it’ll stick. Logically, he knows it’s true. She’s gone for good this time, but damn if it doesn’t feel like she’s watching him from somewhere he won’t see until it’s too late as Gerry lets himself slide to the floor, burying his head in his hands. "Just until the water boils. Then I’ll get up. Michael’s here and I can’t just leave him out there", he tells himself.

He must’ve sat there staring into the dark behind his eyelids for longer than he thought because the next thing he knows the kettle is whistling and it’s just so goddamn loud. Again, logically he knows it’s because he’s sitting right under it but it’s drowning out everything else. He can't hear Michael shuffling around the living room anymore.

He doesn’t hear him walk towards the kitchen either. “Ger?” He can see Michael’s silhouette in the doorway. 

“Oh! Sorry!” Gerry scrambles up off the floor, desperately hoping Michael didn’t see him even though he knows he did and then he hits his arm against the kettle. A flash of pain shoots down his forearm and he sucks in a sharp breath and pulls it back to himself.

“Gerry, are you okay?!” Michael’s right next to him now. Gerard doesn’t trust himself to talk right now so he just nods and leans into Michael’s chest. Michael hesitantly wraps his arms around him but when he lets out a shuddering breath Michael tightens his grip and holds him tight as Gerry lets himself cry in that goddamn kitchen. 

They stand there for a while before Gerard stops sobbing quietly and Michael carefully unwraps his arms from around Gerard and gently guides him to the sink. Gerry keeps his eyes on the floor as Michael washes the burn on his wrist. It isn’t even that bad, just an inch or two of angry pink skin on an already heavily burned arm. They both know it wasn’t bad enough to cry about but Gerard isn’t offering anything and thankfully Michael doesn’t ask, he just keeps his hands soft and light as he starts to dry off Gerry’s arm.

“Do you have bandaids?” Michael asks him gently.

“What?” Gerard asks before he processes what Michael is asking him. Everything is still kind of muffled. “Oh. um in the bathroom.” 

“Okay.” And with that Gerry starts walking them down the hall. It’s painfully slow, but they get there and Michael opens up the medicine cabinet and gets to work on Gerry’s arm. No one says anything until Gerry gets his bearings back, they just sit together on the bathroom floor.

“Thank you Michael.” Michael just smiles at him and says it’s okay, which it turns out is exactly what Gerry needed to hear. He smiles back and they look at each other fondly for a moment until Gerry knows there’s no judgement. Then he reaches out and takes Michael’s hand, still resting on his arm, and brings him back to the living room. “I’ve gotta see what you picked to watch.”

“How ‘bout you start that up and I’ll make the tea this time?” Michael suggests, giving Gerry’s hand a squeeze before letting go.

“Yeah, I think I left everything out on the counter.” Gerry goes to grab the DVD from where Michael left it on the coffee table and get everything set up. It doesn’t take long so he fiddles around his living room, rearranging blankets to make sure they aren’t too close to the  
space heater, checking that the heater is plugged in, pulling the coffee table closer to the couch, before eventually settling on just sitting down and waiting for Michael. He gets back under the blankets, but not before making sure both remotes are within reach on the coffee table in front of him and the Buffy the Vampire Slayer DVD is loading up.

It’s not too soon because a second later Michael makes his way out of the kitchen with steaming mugs of tea, moving extra slowly so he doesn’t spill any. He gets to the couch and climbs in right next to Gerry. Who then presses play as Michael rests his head on his shoulder. Gerry takes a sip of his tea and that soft smile is back when he sees the still melting ice cubes. Gerry puts an arm around Michael who leans further into him and sighs.

When the credits for the first episode roll Gerry looks over at Michael, their empty mugs forgotten on the coffee table in front of them. “So, Buffy?” Michael starts. “I thought you didn’t like vampires.”

“I don’t”

“Bold words for someone who owns the box set.”

“She kills them, keyword slayer.” he pauses for a second, “Also have you seen Spike?”

“Okay yeah.” And then the next episode starts and commentary about the practicality of demon fighting in heeled sandals takes over and they have each other laughing until they’re both hopelessly leaning on each other, Gerry’s arm still around Michael’s shoulders and both of Michael’s around his waist. They don’t make it through the four episodes on that disk before they’re both out cold.


	2. part two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was planning on doing a once a week thing but i'm too excited this time and it's a shorter one and guess who figured out italics

The next afternoon they’re sitting together in the archives breakroom, or more accurately Michael is at the counter, making them coffee while Gerard is lounging on the counter, much to Michael’s dismay. “Ms. Robinson really wouldn’t appreciate you doing that.”

“Gertrude’s used to me by now.” Gerry swings his legs, doing little to alleviate Michael's worry. At least his boots aren’t on the counter. “I like that coat on you. It’s a good look.”

“You didn’t have to lend it to me,” Michael says, wrapped up in and clearly enjoying said coat.

“Nonsense. You’d freeze. And besides, now we match,” Gerry holds out a black-clad sleeve next to Michaels before accepting his coffee.

“Guess I can’t argue with that,” Michael smiles into his mug, somehow managing to look dwarfed by Gerry's coat even though they were roughly the same size.

“Nope,” Gerry says smugly, moving his legs to sit cross legged. And, much to Michael’s dismay, putting his boots up onto the counter. “What does Gertrude have you working on today?”

“Nothing new, I’m just wrapping up what I was telling you about last night.”

“Well in that case,” Gerry leans back on his hands, “would you like to come over for another night of tv watching and tea drinking?” When Michael doesn’t immediately respond he quickly follows up with, “unless you don’t want to, which is fine, I just had a nice time and it’s a friday so…” he lets himself trail off.

“N-no, that sounds great, I just have to get some stuff from my apartment.”

“Yeah, I should probably go grocery shopping too. We could go together and pick up some fun frozen food and make a proper sleepover if you want.”

“That sounds great but now I really have work to do if I don’t want to risk staying late.”

“And I could always go find some dark corner to go be cryptic in.”

“Oh so that’s what you do around here. I should get off at six.”

“See you then.”

  
  
  


When six rolls around, Gerard, true to his word, has spent the last four hours being cryptic in a dark corner, albeit while researching a leitner, packs up and heads to the lobby to wait for Michael who runs in five minutes later looking harried and looks around. He visibly relaxes when Gerry raises a hand and catches his eye.

Michael rushes the rest of the way across the room, nearly running into Gerry. “Sorry, I got caught up and didn’t realize how fast time was passing and then-”

“Hey, it’s okay. Are you ready to go?” Michael nods and Gerry puts an arm around him and they turn to leave.

  
  
  


The trip to and from Michael's is quick, Gerry gets more information on the statement that is almost definitely about Mike Crew, who doesn’t seem like he’s causing too much trouble, if Gerard were just a little more vast aligned himself it would almost sound fun. When the excitement about the work Micheal finished starts to fade out, Gerry asks about the poison rings from artifact storage and that leads to another round of excited talking and wildly waving hands in which Michael launches into the history of locket rings, ‘because that’s what they were being used for, Gerard!’ And as he goes through what kind of person probably owned them he may or may not make note of Gerry’s fascination with them.

  
  


They drop off Michael’s things at Pinhole Books and make their way to the supermarket within walking distance and Michael is grateful for Gerry’s warm coat against the chill. Sure he could’ve picked up a coat of his own when they went to his apartment but he likes this one with all it’s pockets and lingering smell of smoke. He’s found at least three lighters and enough crumpled up receipts to build an alibis just by sticking his hands in the pockets today.

Finding Gerry’s usual tea was no problem and with some protest from Michael, Gerry picked up a box of his favorite as well. “This is the kind you like right? If you would rather get something else, speak up now because this is going in the basket.” 

“You really don’t have to.”

Gerry makes a dramatic show of putting the box in the shopping basket he’s holding. “And moving on. What are we thinking for dinner?” He starts strolling down the aisle leaving Micheal to hurry a few steps to catch up.

They make their way through the frozen aisle trying to find something that looks appetizing before Michael suggests pasta.

“Pasta sounds great. Especially when you consider the fact that I cannot cook.” They start wandering back to find pasta, spending way too much time in a grocery store, somehow even less efficient as a team. 

Once the pasta is secured, with fun facts from Michael about how none of the names’ translations are not as cool and fancy as they seem. They’re all apparently about ears and worms or something. Gerry doesn’t believe him. He believes him even less when he can’t remember which supposed translations go with which pasta but they make their way through the store one more time with Michael holding the basket by now in search of shaker parmesan and it’s his turn to look at Gerry in disbelief. “Even I keep parmesan in my fridge. Well most of the time,” he corrects himself. “N-not that you have to keep anything in your house or anything.”

“Just new to living alone.”

When that vacant look starts to creep in, Michael looks around and sees the display of grocery store paperbacks. “Oh no the ‘classics’ we had to read for english class,” he starts and lets his shoulders relax when Gerry is back to placing his full attention on him. He picks up  _ Interview With a Vampire  _ and taps the cover, “this one might’ve been the worst.”

“I kind of liked that one,” Gerard smiles, equally glad Michael changed the topic.

“Really? I could barely get through this book, let alone the sequels.”

“Sequels?” Gerry asks, just a little too excited.

“I don’t remember how many but apparently they’re supposed to be more interesting.”

“I have to read these right now, you understand.” Gerry is grinning now, “you’ve put me onto something, Micheal.”

“I’ll find the next book while you go find cheese?”

“Deal.” and with that Gerry is off down the aisles, leaving Micheal to sift through the disorganized but not thoroughly picked over display. It seems like most other people held the same disdain as Michael.

  
  
  


Once they’re checked out and back at Gerard’s he puts a pot of water on the stove to boil and they are back to hanging out comfortably in the kitchen, Gerry once again sitting on the counter but this time without the risk of Gertrude, or maybe some lingering ghost of his mother, coming in and scolding him, while Michael takes everything out of the shopping bag that appeared out of another of Gerard’s pockets.

“How do you want to set up?” Gerry hands Michael the box of pasta from where it sits next to him on the counter.

Michael pours the pasta in and Gerard watches with interest as he puts a wooden spoon on top of the pot. Michael seems to catch on and explains, “it helps keep the water from boiling over.”

Gerry doesn't bother to hide his dubious expression, “do you mind watching that while I go set up the living room?”

Michael hums and he takes it as an okay to go plug in the heater and fix up the blankets on the couch. 

  
  
  


Soon enough they’re sitting on the couch, empty bowls abandoned on the coffee table in front of them. As the credits roll, Gerry hits pause and starts to detangle himself. “I’m gonna step outside for a smoke before it gets any later.” He picks up both bowls and brings them to the kitchen. “You’re welcome to join me.”

So they both put their coats on to face the weather that was already bad during the day and make their way downstairs. 

Sitting on the doorstep they’re huddled together even in their, or rather Gerry’s, thick coats. “You can see the stars tonight,” Michael’s voice was filled with wonder. Anyone else and Gerry would have probably said something about stating the obvious but it was Michael so he looked up. He was right to sound so awed they were beautiful.

“Bet you have some kind of fancy academic knowledge about them. Maybe a spooky story?”

“Maybe,” Michael takes a moment to think, “That right there is probably Venus. You can tell because it’s brighter than the other stars. It’s a planet though. Not a star, even though it looks like one. Um. that looks like the big dipper I think.”

“Go on,” Gerry says, leaning on Michael’s shoulder to get a better look up at the dark sky.

“Hmmm. That’s Orion’s belt there.” he points to three stars in a line. “That’s the serpent.”

“That isn’t a snake. Or a belt for that matter”

“Blame the Greeks”

“That,” Micheal points to another random cluster of stars, “is the hand of god.”

“Really?” 

“Well the Greeks didn’t make up all the constellations, there are a lot of stars to go around, Gerry. That there is a coffin.” he can’t help it, Gerry is paying close attention with drooping eyes as he makes up constellations. “That’s the ladder,” he continues and watches as Gerry squints, trying to see something Michael just made up. “There’s the great teacup.”

“You’re bullshitting me.”

“You believed me.”

“You’re lucky you’re pretty, trying to convince me of a great teacup in the sky.”

“Well there is a big dipper.”

“And a little dipper.”

“Do you want me to continue or not?”

“Fine. Your constellations make as much sense as the other ones anyway.”

“Okay, right under the teacup you’ll find the less great saucer.”

“Micheal, that’s a plane.”

“Is that what clued you in? Anyway, there’s virgo.”

“What’s that supposed to look like?”

“I’m not sure,” Michael starts but notices Gerry’s drooping eyes, “anyway, we’d better be getting inside. I can figure out what virgo is supposed to be next time.”

And just like that they get back under the covers of the nice warm couch with full intentions to start the next episode. That doesn't stop them from falling asleep within minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my love language is being lied to about the stars


	3. part three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the sicfic we've all been waiting for

The last week of November passes by without conflict and December seeps in with something like contentment. The archives have been slow, time dragging itself along as Gerry digs up leads on the Leitner from the other week. One right after the other and it’s all looking up for once. Well it will be if he can figure out where this book has ended up. It hasn’t been seen in at least eight years and all of the leads he could dig up have been dead ends. He finds an assistant and asks them to locate any other statements relating to the man who had had it last or just weird books in general. He’ll come back for them later tomorrow. For now his day is done but instead of going home, Gerard goes and finds Micheal to curl up next to and read his book. He’s almost a quarter into  _ The Vampire Lestat  _ and doesn’t quite want to leave alone quite yet, even if neither of them is really hanging out, it’s still nice to soak up Michael’s presence.

  
  
  


The next morning it's just his luck to wake up with a pounding headache. He squeezes his eyes shut and turns over, trying to sleep it off. He can just go in later today. All he needs to do is pick up and look through any files that the assistant found. He reasons that waiting longer is probably leaving her time to keep looking anyway. 

When sleeping it off proves futile, he drags himself out of bed and digs around his medicine cabinet for tylenol before taking a terrible groggy shower in the hopes that it’ll clear his head. When it doesn’t Gerard simply starts getting ready to head to the institute. He does omit any detail work from his makeup though. He may want to look good but he isn’t an idiot and does know his limits.

  
  
  


Gerard Keay is an idiot and does not know his limits. He’s sitting in the breakroom slumped over a mug of tea while Michael talks to him.

“I still don’t get the whole vampires thing, though. You say you don’t like them and yet you were reading that book all day.”

“Lestat's interesting.” Gerry manages, looking up.

“While I could maybe see that that doesn’t explain-” Michael looks him in the face and seems to take in the bleary eyes and scratchy voice. “You okay there Ger?”

“Jus’ a headache. ‘M fine.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Michael says, softer now, putting a hand on Gerry’s forehead then the back of his neck and frowning. “You’re really warm.” Gerry just stares back at him, a little dazed. “We should probably get you home.”

“No. I came for… something,” he tries to remember. His head really is foggy, this is a nightmare. “Um statements. From that assistant.”

“Okay, how about we grab ‘em on our way out?”

“You’re coming too?”

“I don’t really like the idea of you going alone, is that okay?” Michael doesn’t specify exactly what he’s asking is okay but they’re already getting up.

“Mhmmn” 

Getting to Pinhole Books with Gerry sick proves to be as difficult as getting Micheal there half asleep and takes just about as long. But they do get there and Gerry doesn’t even have the energy to be weird about the shop. A brief flash of panic at that passes through him before joining everything else back in the jumble that is his head right now. He can worry in the morning, right now all he wants to do is get some sleep. Which is what he does. As soon as Michael helps him under the covers he drifts off into fitful sleep. 

  
  
  


When he wakes up from dreams that don’t make sense it's dark out. Being December, that could mean it’s anywhere from five pm to the middle of the night but knowing the time isn’t going to help Gerry, who still feels like death but now  _ just _ clear headed enough to feel gross too. He figures getting back to sleep is beyond him, at least while he’s still sticky with sweat, god he feels gross, and starts to get up. Then starts to get up again, this time slowly. His head is still pounding as he leans against his dresser. 

When finally makes it out of his room and down the hall, leaning on the wall for support, god his mother would have hated it, he sees Michael curled up on the couch.  _ Oh no. _ They might be good friends, but he really can’t ask Michael to take care of him while he’s sick. But that’s overshadowed by how soft he looks reading Gerry’s copy of  _ The Vampire Lestat.  _ “Thought you didn’t like Anne Rice.” Gerry’s voice sounds terrible even through the fog in his head.

“I don’t.” he gestures vaguely to something outside of Gerry’s vision. “Just finished the work I brought with me”

“So how’s it compare? You said the sequels were supposed to be better.”

Michael looks up from the book and starts to say something before his eyes focus on Gerry, still leaning against the wall and hugging his arms for warmth, and his tone shifts to concern. “You feeling any better?”

Gerry gives a noncommittal shrug. Then when it looks like Michael is expecting a real answer he mumbles, “Maybe a little.”

“Hmmm,” Micheal gets up and comes over to feel his forehead again and Gerry leans into the cool touch. Then he brings his hand to the back of his neck. “How ‘bout I find some soup in your kitchen and you take a shower while I heat it up?”

“Mhmmmn,” Gerry mumbles, still enjoying cool hands on his too hot head. But feeling gross wins out and he ends up taking the shower.

  
  
  


When he comes back out, damp hair slowly soaking wet patches into his baggy sweatshirt but thankfully less congested, Michael is already waiting for him with soup Gerard didn’t know he owned and a glass of ice water.

While they eat Michael tells him about how excited he is for Christmas coming up. It’s probably just a filler conversation so they don’t have to eat in silence but he still listens to Michael explain how he doesn’t really celebrate much, there isn’t a lot to do alone, but he still puts up lights around his apartment and maybe makes cookies.

“You don’t have to celebrate alone.”

“What do you mean?”

Shit, Gerry might have overstepped but he already committed. “Sounds fun. I never did Christmas but baking cookies and putting up lights sounds doable. Bet we could even fit a tree in the living room.” he squints and looks around as if scouting out the perfect christmas tree spot. “A very small tree.” he adds and shuts his eyes the rest of the way and puts his head in his hands. All that looking around had somehow made his headache even worse.

Michael softly asks if he’s okay again, and when he nods asks if he’s ready to go back to bed.

“Not yet. Can we watch something instead?”

Michael puts in the  _ Buffy  _ dvd where they’d left off. Watching the show had become kind of a tradition for when he stayed over. He gets the show running and climbs back under the blankets on the couch to sit next to Gerard who immediately leans into him and sighs when he puts an arm around him and pulls him just a little closer.

Gerry drifts off about half an hour into their first episode of the night, leaving Micheal to think about what he said about christmas. His family never really did the full hallmark christmas either but they did decorate and do presents. When he was really young his mother would even make cookies in their too clean white kitchen. Gerry didn’t do that but he said he would, he had practically invited Michael to do it with him. Micheal wonders if he really meant it or if he was just sick. He hopes he did.

Gerry moves a little in his sleep and Michael takes the opportunity to bring his hand up to run his fingers through Gerry's hair. It isn’t knotted yet but after a day in bed and then a shower it’s dried in light tangles. Michael absentmindedly starts to work through them as he lets himself imagine what a Christmas with Gerard Keay would be like.

Gerry drifts in and out of sleep for the next couple of hours. Michael has no such luck. Well maybe luck might not be the right word with how fitfully he’s sleeping when he does. Michael decides it definitely isn’t when Gerry wakes up wide eyed and gasping. He frantically looks around the room like he’s searching for some invisible assailant just waiting to jump out and attack him. “Gerry?” he asks because Gerard, for all the world, looks absolutely terrified. “Ger? It’s me. It’s okay. Whatever it was, it was just a dream. Okay?” That doesn’t get a verbal response but the tension is slowly seeping out of the panicked face in front of him. He still looks so  _ afraid _ but that’s gotta be a little better. Micheal uses his arm, still wrapped around Gerry’s shoulders to pull him back to his chest. At least he tries to. The second his grip on him tightens, Gerry takes a sharp intake of breath and tenses up. Michael almost thinks he’s hurt him before he relaxes again into him and falls back into sleep, this time clinging tightly to Michael.

  
  
  


When the credits roll after the last episode on the dvd, Michael starts to shake Gerry awake. This proves to be more difficult a task than he would’ve thought but eventually he gets Gerry to open heavy eyes. “Come on, let’s get you to bed for real.” He gets unintelligible grumbles in response but ever so slowly Gerry does start to get up. Michael opens his arms and Gerry all but falls into them and they make their way to the bedroom.

They get through the door, Gerard still mostly asleep against him and Michael isn’t too far away from sleep himself. He does a once over on Gerry’s clothes, trying to decide if they’re okay to sleep in. The sweatshirt looks comfortable enough and besides, Michael has definitely seen him wear far more uncomfortable looking outfits for multiple days in a row. 

So Michael helps him into bed and under the blankets. He pulls up the blankets higher over him and brushes the hair out of Gerry’s face. He looks so peaceful there, most of the way to sleep, but Michael doesn’t dwell. He feels for Gerry’s temperature and leans down to kiss him on the forehead.

When we turns to leave, Gerry's hand reaches out and grabs his. “Stay.” Gerry’s voice comes out soft and scratchy but he asks, “please?” Michael can't say no to that, he doesn’t really want to either, so he climbs in, still in his clothes from work. As soon as he lies down, Gerry wraps his arms around him and tucks his head under his chin and his burning forehead into his neck. Michael knows he’ll probably get sick but he can’t complain. He just holds him back and lets himself drift off.

  
  
  


Despite Gerry’s half hearted insistence that he is perfectly capable of taking care of himself, which is given while he leans most of his weight against the wall, Michael calls in sick. They’re in the kitchen while Michael makes them tea, Gerry standing in Michael’s usual spot, albeit more slumped against the wall than Michael usually is. 

“You really didn’t have to do that.” Gerry’s voice is almost painful to hear, thick and then thin, scratching in his throat.

For a minute Michael looks worried, “Did I overstep? If I did please tell me but you’re really sick and I d-don’t-”

“No! No. it’s nice,” Gerry cuts him off before he can work himself up. “You just don’t have to.”

“You’re my friend and you’re sick, I’m taking care of you.” Michael starts out soft but that’s probably the most divisive Gerry’s ever heard him.

“Where’s all this sudden confidence coming from babe? Should I be worried about my place as resident knight in shining armor?” it comes out more grimace than joke but it still gets Micheal to smile at him so Gerry takes it as a win.

“Gonna save me from another evil book? My hero”

Michael laughs as Gerry leans heavily against the counter top and takes a mock bow. “Fine keep your title, Fahrenheit 451,” Michael teases and Gerry sways as he pulls himself back to standing. “You feeling any better? How’s your head?”

Gerry feels like death. “Yeah, a little better,” is what he goes with instead.

Michael doesn’t even reply, just raises his eyebrow and looks him up and down. “Really?” he asks eventually.

“No,” Gerry admits quietly, Like Michael who has been nothing but sweet to him might be upset with the answer. “Probably doing about as bad as I look,” he finishes sounding defeated even to himself.

“Hey it’s okay. I’m not gonna be mad at you for being sick, but you do sound pretty bad. How ‘bout you go take another shower to clear your head and I go pick up some cold medicine?”

“You really don’t have to,” Gerry says. Or at least tries to say before he’s cut off by a coughing fit and doubles over, coughing into his elbow badly enough to bring tears to his eyes. But it’s okay because seconds later Michael’s there pulling him close and rubbing is back until the wracking coughs slowly subside. “Thanks,” he manages from his spot tucked into Michael's chest. He doesn’t know if he has the energy to stand on his own right now so he just lets Michael tentatively hold him. “Maybe some cold medicine might be nice actually.”

The kettle whistles and Michael pulls back to set the tea to steep. “How about that shower? I can get some stuff for your throat too.”

“That sounds nice,” Gerry says softly but less like he’s admitting defeat. “Thank you.”

“Great. Let me grab my coat.” Michael starts to walk over to the coat rack, which might be the most homey thing in the living room and the only one that hadn’t appeared after Michael had started spending more time over.

“My wallet’s in my coat pocket.” Homey might have been an overstatement. Gerard only ever kept the coat he had been wearing on the rack. Michael looks like he’s about to protest so Gerry insists. “You’re already taking care of me and now I’m basically making you get groceries that most people would already have. I can at least pay. Please?” 

And that’s that. Michael gets his shoes and coat but not before grabbing Gerry’s wallet.

  
  
  


Michael gets back with groceries, two bags because Gerry was right, he really didn’t keep anything that wasn’t nonperishable and even that was scarce. Micheal cannot figure out what he eats but if he asks about it he knows he’ll get another, ‘just new to living alone’ or ‘have to move around a lot, I wouldn’t want things to go bad’ answer and if Gerry’s going to be that cryptic, he probably just doesn't want to answer and asking another time probably won’t get Micheal any answers.

So Michael goes about putting everything away and ignores Gerry’s cupboards, what is in them and what isn’t, as well the rest of his empty home. A couple cans of soup go next to bottles he knows aren't this business and next to those goes honey to put in tea. Orange juice goes in the fridge. Everything else fits in and Micheal isn't sure if it makes the kitchen look more like someone actually lives here or if it just draws attention to how bare the rest of it is. He leaves the cold medicine on the counter and goes to find Gerry.

Gerry is actually fairly easy to find, standing in front of an open dresser drawer and staring into it thoughtfully. He looks up quickly when Michael knocks on the doorframe and interrupts his decision making. Right after that he shuts his eyes tight and brings a hand to his temples, his head probably spinning from moving it so fast. But he opens them before Micheal can worry any more and pulls a pair of still black but plain and comfortable looking pants out of the drawer and opens the one above it.

Michael thinks to ask what he’s looking for because Gerry has already changed clothes and his hair is damp from a shower.

“You’re still in your clothes from yesterday and I thought maybe you wanted clean ones. But I wasn’t sure what you would want.” Gerry looks down at the open drawer and picks out a shirt that looks far too big for him to have reasonably bought for himself.

“I’m sure that’s fine, thanks,” Michael smiles and gestures to the clothes in Gerry’s arms. “I left cold stuff on the counter. You could maybe take that while I change? The box says to take...actually I don’t remember what the box says to take…”

“Don’t worry I’m sure I can figure it out.” Gerry hands him the clothes. “And if not you’re just at the end of the hall,” he smiles a little to try to calm Michael's worried expression.

  
  
  


Gerard takes twice what the box says. Which according to Gerry means he should be perfectly capable of going back to tracking down the Leitner he picked up statements on yesterday. Michael disagrees but that won’t deter him.

“Ger, honey, you literally can’t stand up straight.”

“No standing required. It’ll take all day to read through the files.”

“Are there even any new leads?”

“There might be. That is why I got the statements, Micheal.”

“Fine, I’ll go get the folder.”

  
  
  


Gerry can barely get through a few sentences at a time and they don’t quite make sense when he tries to piece everything together, the words swimming as he tries to read them. He sighs loudly and Micheal ends up reading the rest of the first one to him as the cold medicine starts to really kick in, making him sleepier and sleepier. He fights it for the first statement, drifting in and out of sleep as Michael reads the statement to him like a messed up bedtime story. By the time Michael starts the second, the cold medicine and just how tired he is catches up with him in full force and he falls asleep just a few pages into it. Michael reads on a little longer, running his fingers through Gerry's hair fanning out over his lap. He finishes the page and Gerard really is fast asleep so he brushes the mostly dry dark hair out of his face for a kiss on his too hot forehead and goes back to reading Anne Rice.

  
  


Gerry wakes up more dazed a couple hours later. “Thought you didn’t like Anne Rice,” he mumbles.

Michael looks down at him and feels his forehead. “You already said that, hon.”

“You don’t have to read a book you don’t like, Micheal.”

“Wouldn’t want to run into any of those evil books,” Michael teases.

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you,” Gerry tells him, apparently too out of it to joke.

“I’m sure you will. Do you want some tea?”

“You don’t have to,” Gerry says, still sounding very much like some tea would do his throat some good.

“I’ll get some for myself too, come on.” Michael starts lifting Gerry’s shoulders up and his head out of his lap so he can get up and Gerry lets himself be pulled into a sitting position, then to his feet. Then to be walked into the kitchen where they stand in their same switched spots. Well Micheal stands while he heats up two mugs of tea. Gerry sits against the cabinets, resting his aching head on a knee he’s pulled up to his chest.

“Hey, Ger,” Michael catches his attention softly. When he looks up he continues, “the honey is in here.” He gestures to the cabinet. “It’ll make your throat feel better.” And with that he proceeds to dump in even more honey than he would usually add sugar. He stirs it in and hands it to Gerry then gets to work on his own mug. When the honey is dissolved, he slides down to join Gerry on the floor and they sit together nursing their tea. 

The rest of the day goes by like that, the cold medicine making Gerry really sleepy and Michael taking the time he was awake to heat up some soup or get him some water, and by nighttime, Michael has determined that Gerry should be okay enough to take care of himself. That and he needs to go back to work. So with promises to remember cold medicine every six hours and to eat and drink, and that he remembers where Micheal put the honey, and to call him if he needs anything, Michael is out the door, still wearing his borrowed clothes.

  
  
  


The next few days are a bit of a blur for Gerry. He mostly spends them in and out of sleep, a combination of being a little too out of it to care about letting his guard down, much less sleeping, exposed in his living room or drifting off on his kitchen floor and of the positive reminders Michael had left around the house that made it seem just a little less like the intimidating place he’d spent his childhood and teens. Things would start to seem wrong but then he would see the  _ Buffy  _ DVDs, left out from when they’d fallen asleep watching them, that now would probably feel wrong to watch alone, or Michael's sweater he had forgotten, or the earrings he had taken out and forgotten last week. Both the sweater Michael had forgotten this time and the earrings get put away in an empty drawer in his room for the time being but there are little signs of life in an otherwise barren house in the blanket that’s found a permanent home across the back of the couch for movie nights and the box of the tea Michael likes right next to the one he usually gets.

There are even more reminders of care when he goes to make himself anything as well. Michael's shopping trip lasts him all the way through being sick. He goes to make himself some soup and then sees that Michael got it and has to smile even though his head still feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. Then as that heats up he remembers to add honey to his tea. Michael was right about that too.

Later in the week he even has a semi coherent conversation with Michael, who miraculously didn’t get sick, when he calls to check in on his lunch break. Michael asks after him and he is doing better this time when he says he is. Not well but better. He’d just tried and failed to get through some of the Leitner statements once again but this time Michael volunteers to find some of the original copies in the archive and read along out loud with him, provided that Gerry made himself lunch. 

So Micheal ends up digging through the archives while Gerry makes himself some of the box mac n cheese Micheal bought because Micheal apparently thought of everything, including predicting this ‘sick but tired of soup and well enough to cook just a little’ stage. By the time he’s finishing making his lunch, Michael has already found the first statement. Another thing for Gerry to add to his list of things Michael could do that were near magic. Then he sits down with a bowl of mac n cheese and a glass of orange juice and Michael starts to read out someone’s experience with what is definitely an evil book. 

They make light conversation while Michael finds the next statement, which he once again finds faster than Gerry thinks anyone else could in Gertrude’s tornado of a filing system. And Gerry actually gets some dishes done while Michael reads it out. Dishes are apparently pretty easy when all you’ve eaten in the past few days is soup.

They end the call after that with a promise that Michael will come over for movies on Friday and multiple thank yous from Gerry for taking care of him like that. Then Gerry goes back to sleep because it might’ve just been a phone call and making lunch but it was enough to tire him out pretty thoroughly.

**Author's Note:**

> im really excited about this one! i say like this isnt my first fanfic. any feedback is appreciated but please be nice. i hope this turned out okay it is two am


End file.
